Monday, August 4, 2014

Que bicho raro – dating in rural Spain

In the darkness of 3 a.m., I felt
something scurrying along my arm. In a half-daze I grabbed at it,
only to feel sharp cuts across my palm. I jumped out of bed, turned
on the light, and found a cockroach with huge razor-antlers scurrying
across the sheets. After annihilating it with my slipper, I stared at
it, my heart beating rapidly. First I was shocked, then I felt bummed
out. This disgusting insect had seen more action in my bed than any
man in the past year – which is a strange thought to have when a
large insect is lying dead in the middle of your bedroom. Somehow,
though, this very strange occurrence had become metaphoric. Probably
because dating in Spain – or lackthereof, in my case, has been
coming up in conversation lately.

While on vacation with 6 women, all
hovering around 40, they were shocked to find out I hadn't had any
for a year. Not that they had found the best solutions either. One
was in love with a married man, who was spewing the typical line,
“I'm trying to work things out with my wife” yet meanwhile coming
over for a weekly humpfest. Another had found out that her husband
has had a lover on the side for two years. Another was in a sexless
relationship. Another was having no luck finding a man in a large
city. Another was married with two kids, but meeting up with her
lover during vacations – including during ours in Cádiz. Based on
their reactions, they seemed to think that any sex (their solution)
was better than waiting a year or more for a great guy and a great
relationship (my hope).

It's not that I haven't tested the
waters. I am extroverted, but when you want to flirt with someone who
speaks another language, it's deflating to conjure up a simple line -“¿Como conociste a Carlos?” 'How do you know Carlos?' -
only to be met with a look of confusion and a blunt “Que?”

There have been a few whom I was
interested in or who seemed interested in me. But they were too young
(Hovering around 20? Step aside, son.) or taken;
what makes a guy with a girlfriend or wife think I'm going to mess
with that?

A few locals have explained it to me as
such: men don't ask women out formally for a date. Rather, it's a
friendly, “Want to grab a coffee / drink sometime?” However, I
respond with an enthusiastic yes, and then.....nothing. My friends
tell me that I have to remind the guy: “How about that coffee?”
Which I do. (I have to say, having to remind a guy about our
get-together takes the romance out – why did they forget in the
first place?) With only one guy, we had a couple of drinks together,
but afterwards ...nothing.

It's frustrating. In Canada, my
girlfriends attempted to teach me the “rules” of dating: don't
ask a guy out, wait for him to ask you, make sure he pays, use dating
sites, blah blah blah blah. Now in Spain, I have to learn ANOTHER set
of rules? I'm in my mid-thirties; do I really have to go through that
all over again?

My secret dream is to be able to put on
a great dress, waltz into a room, bat my eyelashes a few times and
have a swarm of men hand over their number. BUT THAT'S NOT GONNA
HAPPEN.

I want to give up, to bury my head in the sand. In a land where wild passion abounds, where
people freely curse and express their love outwardly, I feel like
casting mine to the side. As I stare at the squished cockroach, my
overdramatic self can't help but wonder if it's a symbol of my love
life.